It might be yours...

I have two boys and although I would really love a little girl of my own I wasn't really digging the odds, 50/50 just isn't my scene.  Now if we could spin out all the females from my stud and insert them with a turkey baster I might have been on board but I have never been able to tell the sex of fish and I imagine sperm would be just as tricky so it just seemed time that we decided our family was exactly what it was supposed to be... one mom (too bad Todd if I just blew up your sister wives fantasy), one dad and two wild and crazy boys.  It just made sense...2 arms, 2 parents, 2 fifths of vodka, 90 day supply of Xanax / 2 kids.  So, I listened to Bob Barker (or Drew Carey, depending on your generation) and had my pet spayed or neutered.  It wasn't on Todd's bucket list to have his nuts cut but I was reading Fifty Shades of Grey and if he wanted to play, well, he had to pay. 
 That was the beginning of May and at the end of June this happened...

That is the exact picture I texted to Todd with a simple message, "We are pregnant".  Holy fucking shit balls, we are pregnant!!!  How did this happen?!?  Oh right, that asshole Christian Grey with his warped sexual healing...MOTHER FUCKER! 

Fast forward to today and I am sitting here 11 weeks pregnant with 5 pounds more to love (yup, not wasting anytime packing on the lbs) and completely sober.  You might be asking yourself, is she really sober?  Damn right I'm sober and guess what?  Everyone is suffering for it.  I'm crabby and hateful and bitchy and any other adjective that might describe being a complete rotten twat that's suffering from withdrawals. 

Needless to say we are all celebrating this beautiful life growing inside me that is going to take it's sweet ass time getting here anywhere around March 9th.  I am especially enjoying the recurrent yeast infections, the midnight pee session and then again at 2am, 4am and once more right before my alarm goes off at 6:20am  the pain in my boobs and my gut as both begin to stretch to max capacity, the off the wall dreams like going to raves in London or driving a cab in downtown Flint for extra cash, all Todd's friends asking who the father is (Maury will decide), the gas that smells like something died in my ass and hits at the most unnecessary times so I am left praying that whatever seat I am releasing the toxic fumes into has a solid cushion to absorb the vapors and I am not found out that I am completely blowing ass in a benefits meeting, and last but definitely not least experiencing it all with no mommy's medicine. 

50/50 chance it's a girl...expect the worst, hope for the best.  To be continued...